


Maintenance Required

by chelztoddbrooke



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anxious David Rose, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, Dramatic David Rose, Fluff and Angst, Husbands, M/M, Misunderstandings, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelztoddbrooke/pseuds/chelztoddbrooke
Summary: He was particular, yes. And maybe he had high standards, but high maintenance? That made him sound like something that needed to be handled. His mother needed to be handled, not him.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 6
Kudos: 216





	Maintenance Required

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this Friends quote on Facebook last week and was suddenly inspired. The story ended up a bit all over the place, but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Monica: Look, I am not high maintenance. I am not. Chandler!  
> Chandler: You’re a little high maintenance.  
> Monica: Ahhh! You are on my list.  
> Chandler: I’m sorry. You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay, because I like … maintaining you.

David let himself into the house. He set his bag down and followed Patrick’s voice towards the office. He gently pushed the door open, smiling when he saw the face of his mother-in-law filling the screen of Patrick’s laptop.

“David!” Marcy chirped as he stepped into the background of the video call. Patrick turned over his shoulder, his smile brightening at the sight of his husband.

“Hello,” David addressed Marcy with a small wave. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to let you know I was home,” he said to Patrick, sliding a hand across his shoulders and bending to give him a quick kiss.

“I’ll be done here soon,” Patrick replied.

“No rush, enjoy your chat,” David grinned, waving at Marcy again.

He pulled the door shut behind him, hearing Marcy ask how they were settling into the new house. He paused for a moment, wondering which “new homeowner” blunder Patrick would share with his mother. They certainly had their share. From the resident mouse family in the shed, to certain pieces of furniture not fitting up the stairs and every run of the mill obstacle in between. But after living in a hotel for so long, being in the cottage with Patrick was nothing short of heaven, regardless of any hiccups. He heard Patrick tell her something about it taking longer than expected. Marcy’s reply stopped David in his tracks.

“Well that’s really no surprise with how high maintenance David can be sometimes,” his mother-in-law’s words connected like a solid blow. He was particular, yes. And maybe he had high standards, but _high maintenance_? That made him sound like something that needed to be handled. His mother needed to be handled, not him.

Patrick’s responding laugh sent an embarrassed flush scoring across David’s cheeks and down his neck. He clutched the door knob, ready to push back in and defend himself, but like his attempt to prove he could compromise, he figured that would only prove their point. He released the knob and started back towards the kitchen. He would just have to prove them wrong.

* * *

David was unloading the dishwasher when Patrick finally emerged from the office.

“Mom and Dad send their love,” he mentioned, squeezing David’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the base of his neck as he moved past him towards the fridge.

“Mmm,” David responded with a nod, hiding his sullen expression behind a cabinet door.

“I was thinking taco salad for dinner, that ok?” Patrick asked, rooting around for the necessary ingredients.

“Uh,” David opened his mouth to say he was actually in the mood for pasta, but the memory of Marcy’s comment had him reconsidering. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Patrick stopped short, peeking around the fridge door to set eyes on his husband. David never agreed with the first dinner option. “You sure? We can have something else,” he checked.

“Taco salad is fine with me,” David repeated, sending him what he hoped was a convincing smile.

* * *

After dinner, David went to change into his pajamas before joining Patrick on the couch. As he curled into his husband’s side, he noticed the TV was set on some sports program. He grimaced at the thought of spending the next couple hours watching uniformed men running around a field.

“I’m just checking the score, we can change it to whatever you want,” Patrick offered, trying to hand David the remote. David reached to take it, but curled his fingers into a fist instead remembering his want to be less of an obstacle.

“No, it’s ok. We can leave it,” he declined.

Patrick’s brow furrowed. “Are you going to go read?” he wondered. He really didn’t want David to leave. They were working opposite shifts that week to accommodate vendor visits, so he hadn’t seen much of his husband all day and tomorrow would be much of the same.

“No, but you can leave it on,” David insisted, tucking his feet underneath him and shuffling around to make himself more comfortable.

“You ok?” Patrick checked. Historically, he could only get David to do anything even remotely sport related by bribing him with food. Tonight he didn’t even need to ask, let alone bribe.

“Yeah,” David replied, giving his husband’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Which ones are we?”

“The ones in the blue.”

“Blue uniforms or blue socks?” David noted both teams had a shade of blue on somewhere.

“Uniforms,” Patrick clarified

“Uniforms,” David parroted. “And this game is?”

“Baseball.”

“Ah yes. With the bases and the ball,” David replied with a nod, earning a chuckle from his husband. The game held his attention for all of two seconds before his mind started to wander. He fought hard to tamp down his longing to be doing something else, pretty much anything else, not ready to give up his attempt at being a more accommodating partner.

* * *

“Yesss!” Patrick exclaimed as the Blue Jays tied the game in the bottom of the ninth inning. His exuberance jostled the man who had fallen asleep against his shoulder some time ago.

“Is it over, did we win?” David asked groggily. He scrubbed at his eyes and blinked at the screen, nothing there giving him a clear answer.

“No, we’re all tied up and going into extra innings,” Patrick explained.

“Well, I don’t think I have any extra innings in me,” David yawned, pulling into a deep stretch. “I’m going to head to bed,” he decided, getting to his feet.

Patrick’s eyes flicked from the screen to up at his husband and back again, clearly conflicted. Part of him wanted to go to bed with David, but he so rarely watched a game in real time, not to mention one going into extra innings…

David saw his struggle and took the decision out of his hands. “Stay, finish your game,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Patrick caught David’s hand before he moved out of reach.

“You ok?” he checked again. David’s suddenly agreeable nature was concerning. He worried it might be a symptom of some bigger problem.

“Just tired. I have a long day tomorrow,” David replied with a benign smile, squeezing Patrick’s hand before he released it

“Love you!” Patrick shouted after David’s retreating form.

David shouted back something that sounded vaguely like “Go Team!”

* * *

Patrick reached across the bed to tuck himself against David’s warm body, but came up with nothing but air. His eyes blinked open, glancing around the room to find any evidence of where his husband had gotten to. He listened hard for the sound of the shower running or a toilet flushing but still nothing.

“David?” he called tentatively. When that received no reply, Patrick tossed the blankets back and went to investigate further.

He padded down the stairs, surprised to find no lights or other signs of life. His eyes immediately swung towards the door, the knot in his stomach tightening when he realized David’s bag and keys were gone. He drew in a deep breath, clicking into his rational brain. David had a day full of vendor visits, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to have gotten an early start. Except for the fact that he usually had to cajole David out of bed and then use every compliment, plea, bribe, and promise to actually get him in the car and on his way. And it was even more unusual for him to leave without saying _anything._

Patrick moved towards the kitchen, something on the counter catching his attention. It was the last blueberry muffin. The one he and David had squabbled over the previous morning, both having their sights set on it. Set next to it was a note in David’s familiar scrawl.

_Up early, didn’t want to wake you. Be back by dinner._

_Love, D_

_P.S. Enjoy the muffin, muffin. :)_

Patrick’s worries from the night before came roaring back to life. Something was definitely up, but there was no way he’d be able to get to the bottom of it until David returned.

* * *

Patrick sighed. He’d given it a day to see if David would return to normal on his own, but it hadn’t happened. Typically on the days David did vendor visits, he would blow up Patrick’s phone with whiny but amusing texts about his adventures on the road and encounters with various rednecks or rogue farm animals. Today it was nothing but generic status updates until David arrived home around dinner as promised. Dinner was another uneventful affair where David acquiesced to Patrick’s wishes once again followed by an evening of reading in bed.

For some reason, David was making himself small. He was intentionally taking up less space literally and figuratively and Patrick felt the absence acutely. It was driving him crazy.

He glanced at the man lying next to him, curled towards the far side of the bed nose buried in his book. . Patrick set a hand between David’s shoulder blades.

“David?”

“What!?” David snapped, violently wrenching himself into a seated position. Patrick blinked in surprise, compulsively throwing his hands up in defense. He watched David’s expression reset, an apologetic grimace coming to his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “What did you need?”

Patrick pulled a face. “Something wrong?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.

David’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, his eyes looking everywhere in the room except at Patrick. “Uh...” he tilted his head and lifted his shoulder in that way he did when he was lying and knew Patrick knew he was lying but he was going to try and get away with it anyway. “No.” he settled on finally.

“David...” Patrick chuckled again. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?” his voice went up an octave, pulling his shoulders with it. Still lying.

“You’ve been acting strange since you got home last night,”

David’s mouth twisted and his brow furrowed. “Um, we had dinner, watched sport ball and I went to bed early and then I spent all day doing vendor visits. I didn’t complain or waste time, I figured my performance would at least be satisfactory.”

“Baseball, David.” Patrick started.

“Baseball,” David mouthed. He’d remember that one of these days.

“And you never do anything quickly or without complaint...that’s what’s so strange.”

“Oh so because I was actually productive, there must be something wrong?” David challenged.

“Well, yes. Sorta?” Patrick wasn’t sure there was really a good answer to that question.

“Goodnight, Patrick,” He pulled the blanket up over his shoulder and tried to lay back down. He really didn’t want to have this conversation.

Patrick caught David’s arm. “David…” he pleaded.

“Ok fine,” he huffed, marking his page and setting his book on the nightstand. “I overheard you and your mom talking yesterday.”

“Ok?” Patrick tilted his head.

“She said I was high maintenance and you didn’t disagree with her.”

Patrick barked out a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”

“So you think I’m high maintenance?” David crossed his arms across his chest.

“A little, yeah,” Patrick admitted, but the hurt that flashed across David’s face told him that was the exact wrong thing to say. “Wait…you’re actually upset about this.”

“Of course I’m upset!” David snapped. “You just sit around laughing and talking about how hard I am to live with!”

“Woah, hold on.” Patrick threw a hand up again. “No one is talking about you. I mean she’s my mother and you’re my husband so you come up in conversation and sometimes I ask her for advice, but that’s it.”

“And you ask for advice on how to live with your high maintenance husband? Because I just don’t see how that would just come up in conversation.” Something in David’s tone shifted from irritated to anxious.

Patrick’s gut twisted. He knew David _hated_ being talked about. He’d been bullied and teased enough growing up that the idea of anyone saying anything behind his back made him woefully insecure. Patrick had made a promise to himself early on in their relationship that he wouldn’t feed that insecurity. Outside of harmless joking with Stevie, he’d been sure to honor that promise. He never would’ve told his mother that David was hard to live with mostly because it wasn’t true, but also because it wasn’t her business.

“David, she has met you,” he replied gently, hoping David would catch on.

“So?” David’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in challenge.

“You are basically a huge flashing billboard for high maintenance. And you know this or you wouldn’t have spent the last twenty four hours trying _not_ to be high maintenance.” Patrick’s brow furrowed. “At least I think that’s what you were doing…”

“Not successful?” David asked, all of his ire suddenly dropping away, leaving behind something soft and insecure.

“Actually very successful, but concerning, which may have been worse,” Patrick shrugged. “But what I am saying is that it is no secret that you are very particular and very vocal about your wants and needs. I knew that the second I met you and honestly that is one of the things I love most about you. It makes it very easy for me to know that I am giving you what you need even if I sometimes have to go out of my way to get you what you need.”

“But doesn’t that make you feel like you have to handle me?” David asked, grimacing.

“David, I am not sure there is anyone on this planet who could handle you,” Patrick snorted. David scowled at him. Patrick rolled his eyes and reached out to grip his husband’s shoulders to make sure he was paying attention. “But I like _maintaining_ you and will happily spend the rest of my life maintaining you.” David’s features went blurry with emotion. Patrick tugged him into a hug.

“Thank you, I love you.” David whispered against his neck. _Aww, he’s like your own little maintenance man._ David chuckled at thought he heard in Alexis’s voice. He felt his anxiety retreat back to its hiding place and the tightness in his chest loosen. He pushed back to look at his husband. “So does that mean I can be excused from watching any more _base_ ball games unless you are in them or we are drinking heavily?” he wondered.

“Yes, David,” Patrick chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to David’s lips.

“And can you do the vendor visits to the Harmon Farm? Their goats seriously creep me out,”

“Yes, David,” Patrick repeated, kissing him again.


End file.
